


magic me some answer

by my-ruu (riotousorder)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Keith is emotionally constipated and awkward, Lance is trying, M/M, Some langst, Urban Fantasy, everyone has some sort of little bit of magic in them, everyone is descendant from elves/vampires/some other mythical creatures, there are elves and dragons and vampires and more and technological advancements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 23:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12376071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riotousorder/pseuds/my-ruu
Summary: In a world where magic and mythical creatures are very much real, there is nothing that either magic or science cannot explain. Dragons breathing fire? A phosphorous compound dragons produce spontaneously combusts when exposed to oxygen or magic. Trees being so tall that they breach the clouds? Selective breeding in controlled environment or magic.Newsflash: Lance can see things that no one else could and he would love to hear some magical/scientific explanation on that.When he meets a black-clad man that can see things like him and interact with them, Lance makes it his life mission to get some well-deserved answers.





	magic me some answer

**Author's Note:**

> What the fck am I doing!? I have an exam tmr!

Lance detested hospitals. Not the smoldering red hot rage of a cheated lover ready to burn down house, but more like the barely tolerance most kids had for veggies, with him the kid and hospitals the annoying green stuff. He was wise to the good of hospitals, of course he was, he just...didn't like them and tried his damnedest to keep himself away from one.

 

And just look where he was at the moment, standing across from a hospital and about to enter it, all on his own volition.

 

Everyone should be proud of him.

 

The sight of the sturdy white building just worked to renew his dislike rather than allay it. Ever since his encounter with the Other thirteen years ago, Lance had learnt to regard hospitals with a healthy dose of fear. Hospital staffs, white-clad patients and visitors strode through the automatic glass doors with haste in their steps and worry taut their face. Lance humored the idea if doctors had the ability to see the Others, would they have continued with their noble profession?

 

Keening wails of sirens and mad screeching of tires on asphalt drew his eyes to the far intersection around the park and all his thought amalgamated onto one single, versatile word.

 

_Shit._

 

The red and white ambulance careered into view, its flashing red lights parting crowds of cars like hot knife through melted butter. It came with aggressive speed, a trail of white and red that had pedestrians turn and look over their shoulders with almost fear on their face, but move on with their lives quickly enough, glad that it wasn't them strapped to a stretcher on the back of a truck fighting for their lives. Lance, however, stayed rooted on his spot, watching the ambulance pull over with a nail-on-chalkboard screech that sent shivers along his spine in the empty spot outside the emergency room. The siren had been turned off quickly enough, leaving the silence ringing in his ears. Then new noises started falling in. Sharp rushed commands, hoarse screaming, clanking and clunking of the stretcher being lowered and zipped inside, a woman sporting white bandages on her face and, oh god so much blood, kicking to get out of a nurse's hold, and then just harrowing caterwaul. Lance's heart dropped like a rock in water, sinking into unfathomable depths of nameless sentiments as the sound echoed in the near empty street, rumbling along his skin. He fought the ugly feeling of relief singing in his veins, that it wasn't someone he knew lying on the stretcher, on a knife-edge of life and death, of becoming an Other.

 

The nurse rubbed the lady's blood-blotched back in comforting circles for a while before gently but no less forcibly hauling her up to her feet and guiding her to the sliding glass doors of the main entrance. Her keening cries had subsided into indistinct sniveling under the white noise whoosh of passing traffic. The doors opened to admit them; and through the opening gap, tidal wave of antiseptic mixed with out-of-place sweet scent of flowers and an undertone of iron hurtled straight into Lance's nostrils, poking and puncturing his nasal passage until he could feel his nose hair writhe in agony and croak. The doors thankfully closed swiftly, cutting off the onslaught of biting scent. Lance gagged and frantically sucked in a deep gulp of familiar, safe, smoke-filled air, half tempted to just turn tail and go home. He couldn't do this. He couldn't go in there. People _died_ in there. And whenever there was death and he was close enough, an Other would appear and they would find him and drag him back to their world. He-he could n-

 

 _Mari_.

 

The overheating set of gearwheels in his mind stuttered to a halt, metal grinding together stridently.

 

_His sister._

 

Lance's heart still beat with the craze of a tiger caught in a poacher's snare in his chest, but at least he could think rationally now.

 

Mari, his fave, sweet sister, was waiting for him in there, expecting to see him walk through the door to her room at any moment now. She would be so disappointed if he didn't show up.

 

Again.

 

He couldn't let his family down again.

 

Lance took a deep, full-body shivering breath and carefully unclenched his fists. Huh, when did he close them in the first place?

 

 _He could do this. No, he_ would _do this._

 

Lance took one step over the crosswalk. One small step for him but a giant leap for also him. Lance kept walking. His hands began shaking anew by his side. He willed them to still but to no avail; they shook leaf-like, fine tremors that somehow shook his teeth as well. Vexed, he jammed them deep inside his pants' pockets and added a more casual slouch to his gait. Gotta act natural; otherwise Mari would notice his discomfort and forcibly kick him home before he even got the chance to say hi. Besides, he was just going to be here for an hour tops, hanging out with his favorite sister, then he would be back out here in the sun and wind in no time. Nothing was going to happen, nothing at all.

 

With that hackneyed self-reassuring prep-talk, Lance took one final deep breath of the air outside and stepped through the hospital’s doors.

 

* * *

 

Beyond the threshold was a different world altogether. Shades of white prevailed in this reality, every other color was muted out with a sheen of ghostly white. Noises blended together to compose an orchestra of buzzing. People in blue garment passed by him as mere displacement in air. Lance breathed through his mouth, the stale AC-recycled air sprinkled his throat with a layer of fine sand. Someone bumped into him, hissed something and moved around him. He distantly realized he had been blocking the entrance. Lance automatically moved towards the elevator without registering that he had moved at all. Mari had already given him her room number and detailed instruction on how to get there so Lance bypassed the front desk and all the people sitting there, waiting with dead eyes.

 

The hallway had as much personality as the lobby. Squares of golden sunlight filtered through the glass windows along the hall, offering a bit of cookie dough color to the white tiled floor. The elevator was at the end of the hallway, Lance could see it clearly, but someone had already beat him to it. The person inside just pushed the close button, and the heavy metal door was starting to close! His breath hitched in his throat. He needed to be with Mari as soon as he could. Lance picked up speed, shoes pounding on the floor as he broke into a full sprint. Shoot, let him make it _lethimmakeit_! He threw a hand forward and stuck it firmly between the small crack of the two panels. The door halted and started its reverse. Lance stumbled inside with an overjoyed sigh and leant his back onto the shocking cold metal at the back of the elevator, barely having enough energy to give his companion a stink eye. He clearly saw Lance run for the elevator and didn't have the decency to stop the door for him! That was decidedly rude.

 

His hooded, black-clad elevator companion, however, ignored him completely, opting to stare at an unidentified spot to his position just in front of the number panel. Lance took one and a half step towards the panel, intending to push the button to the fifth floor, but it had already lit up. It seemed they were going to the same floor.

 

The elevator closed without a noise and started its unhurried ascend. Lance drew back to his place in the back and worked to regulate his breathing. He inhaled for a count of four, exhaled for another count of four, just like Hunk taught. His heartbeats started to slow, closely resembling soothing raindrops beating pit-a-pat outside glass window. Lance had never like hospitals to begin with but this was the first time he got so worked up over it. Guess seeing someone literally on the brink of death could really scare him witless. Lance breathed in again, chest constricted slightly, and breathed out. His heart had returned to its original rhythm though still too loud and noticeable in his ears.

 

He would have continued the exercise if his elevator companion hadn't decided to study him with an unreadable expression instead the air molecules floating around the enclosed metal box. Lance automatically glared at the stranger; him having a breathing exercise to keep his heart functioning normally was not some entertaining show. The guy turned his gaze away immediately without any hint of embarrassment and walked out the elevator just as it slowed to a stop and dinged quietly. Lance steamed at the blatant dismissal for a moment before following his elevator companion out, whose deep dark scheme of clothing seemed to suck in all the monotonous whiteness. They walked in the same direction, with Lance half a step behind, till the end of the hallway where Lance took a left while his companion made a sharp right.

 

Lance banished all thoughts of the rude black-clad man from his mind in favor of the giddiness at seeing his sister.

* * *

 

 

 

Mari's room was situated on the far end of the north wing that ran along the hospital's own little tree-filled playground. Lance felt his face broke into a goofy smile as he prepared the knocking sequence known only to him and Mari. It had been so long since he last did this.

 

He rapped his knuckle once on the wooden door, followed by a muted of a flat palm, then two consecutive knuckle raps. He didn’t have to wait long; Mari's excited _'Lance!’_ could be heard through the wooden door almost immediately. Lance didn’t need anymore invitation to open the door and peak his head inside. Mari was sitting up on her bed, a few pillows popped up behind her. She had the brightest of bright smile on her face, the full teeth, eyes-crinkling kind that made her look like a dragon. His sister looked absolutely stunning, even with greasy bed head and boring standard hospital light blue patterned suit. She put a finger to her lips and nodded her head towards the wooden crib next to her bed, where Lance could see a burrito of light blue blanket with blue hat lying within.

 

His lovely sweet beautiful niece.

 

Lance fully stepped in, closing the door behind him with a muted click, and made his way over to Mari’s bedside with a spring to his steps. Mari shook her head fondly, exasperatedly rolling her eyes, to which Lance only sticked out his tongue.

 

"Finally you came,: Mari whispered theatrically, completed with a hand over her heart and a sardonically sweet smile. "I was getting so bored."

 

"You're gonna be out of here in like, what? Eleven hours? And you've been here for over two days." Lance laughed, because she was as dramatic as he was. And she was older than him by eight years!

 

"That's eleven hours too many." She groaned, dropping whispering in favor of speaking normally but still keeping it well under indoor volume. Her hands came up to undo her messy hair bun. Warm brown locks fell around her face, naturally wavy, softly accentuating her high cheekbones and pale blue eyes. Mari was absolutely glowing, even though tired and with less sleep than recommended. Pretty and nice. He wondered if Mom had looked just as beautiful when he was born.

 

"You know, I would offer to braid your hair but-" Lance gestured to the shiny sheen of grease on the tips of her fingers after she finished with her hair. "-best not to."

 

Mari immediately undo her bun, again. "I want waterfall. There's a pack of bobby pins and hair ties in the bag for you," she said, promptly sitting up, turning her back to him and shaking her hair out.

 

"I just said I'm not doing it," Lance said, even as he rummaged around for said package. "Why did you bring hair pins and ties anyway? And why waterfall?" He added, affronted to know that waterfall braid was the first thing that came to his sister's mind. He thought Mari had more common sense than that. Waterfall braid was, like, the cheesiest, most common, cliche elvish hairstyle ever to exist. Lance swore, for every four people he met, there was always one with the hairdo.

 

"Hell if I know. I think Fred even packed a bedside lamp in the bag." Mari shrugged as Lance started combing through her hair, still somehow soft while being royally greasy. "And stop criticizing my style. Don’t argue. I know you’re thinking about how 'ordinary' I am." She made an air quote at 'ordinary'.

 

The protest he was about to make died on its way out of his mouth. Lance adopted an affronted tone and smirked. "I am not. Have faith in me for once, will you?"

 

Lance was certain Mari could _hear_ his smirk.

 

She scoffed noisily. "Sure." She drawled out every syllable. "Well then. O’ august hairstylist, amaze me."

 

"Gladly," Lance said, confidence surging forward, quenching the last embers of fear in him. If one thing Lance could say he was good at, it was that he knew his way around hairstyling.

 

He made sure to comb her hair thoroughly, partially to untangle all the knots but mostly because Mari absolutely loved having people comb her hair for her. She sighed contentedly, leaning her head further back like a baby cat snuggling into a heater. Lance smiled, bemused. Miraculously, her hair was almost tangle free, save for some easy-to-undo knots here and there.

 

"Did you say Frederico pack a lamp?" Lance broke the silence, suddenly remembered Mari's words.

 

Mari startled. Lance had no doubt she had started falling asleep. "Oh yeah. It's in the bag on his bed." Lance looked over to the unoccupied extra bed in the corner. The blanket was unmade. Sure enough, Lance saw a white lamp shade poking out from the half opened shoulder bag lying at the foot of the bed.

 

"How?"

 

"He was half-asleep on the floor cuddling with Chico when I woke him up screaming in the middle of the night. Not the best circumstances for packing stuff, you know."

 

Lance balked, halting his combing. Because _what?_

 

"You made your husband sleep on the floor? With your dog? At night?"

 

"I was grouchy, all right. I'd like to see you _not_ being grouchy having six pounds of squirming sentient mass in your stomach. Besides, _I_ would pay millions to sleep on the floor with Chico. He is a perfect cuddling partner."

 

Lance grimaced slightly. "No thank you." And before Mari could weird him out with vivid spiel of pregnancy, Lance asked. "Where's Fred anyway?" He hadn't seen his brother-in-law for quite a while now. Frederico was fun to be around.

 

"He's at a grease pit, replenishing." Mari sounded so offended Lance had to smother a laugh into the crook of his elbow.

 

They lapsed back into comfortable silence, with occasional sigh of contentment from Mari as he pulled some scalp massaging tricks.

 

Lance parted her hair, a bit to the left since that how Mari usually have her hair parted. Lance studied her hair for a moment. He was aiming for something nice and simple but still managed to hide the fact that she hadn't washed her hair for days. Dutch braid could do the trick, but it was too bland. If he could add a twist to it...

 

With an idea half-formed, he began braiding. Right strand under the middle, left strand under the middle. Lance got lost in the familiar movement, left, right, left, right. In a softly lit room with ample of natural lights and view of treetops moving along to the wind, it felt almost like the old days when they were still kids and Lance would wheedle Mari until she gave in and took a break from her study to let him style her hair in his room with orange sunset light streaming through a curtained window, breeze blowing softly in. It was nice time, childhood, that was.

 

Lance almost forgot he was in a hospital, so lost in the moment.

 

Just as he finished pinning the first bun into place, a hiccuped wail sailed towards them from the crib. Mari went from lazily peaceful to alert in an instant, climbing off the bed and making her way to her baby. She tutted at the baby cutely and reached into the crib to pick her up. The blanket clad bundle fitted snugly in her arms; a patch of sun kissed skin was the only visible thing Lance could see of his new born niece. Mari smiled down at her daughter, rocking left and right to calm her crying. She looked absolutely glowing in that moment, so soft and real that Lance couldn't help a fond smile at them both.

 

In a dark, lonely recess of his mind, Lance wondered if mom had held him close like that and smiled at him so full of love before she passed away.

 

Mari wandered back to her bed, baby in arms. She kept her back to him, not before giving him a smirk Lance had no trouble interpreting as her way of telling him to keep doing his duty. Lance turned his eyes away and downwards as Mari breast fed her child. Come to think of it-

 

"What's her name?" Lance asked, fingers flying through the familiar motion, left, right, left, right.

 

"We haven't decided," said Mari, with an air of faint frustration, "There are so many to choose from! We have documents, Lance. Lists of names! We can't-" Mari trailed off, hand coming to twirl a strand of hair Lance had had the forethought to leave out of the braid. She never grew out off that habit when she deeply pondered something.

 

"'We can't' what?" Lance hedged.

 

"We can't. But _you_ can. You can name her." Mari murmured so quietly Lance almost missed her words.

 

Lance stopped his motion at once because- _what? Did his ears malfunction?_

 

"Are you seriously letting me name my niece? Oh man I have so many! Autumn, Strawberry, Small,-"

 

"I'm revoking it."

 

"No no, I'm serious. You're letting me name her? For real?" If he wasn't braiding her hair and having to keep it in place, Lance would have thrown his hands up in the air out of sheer surprise and excitement.

 

"Yes and I'm already regretting it."

 

"Nah ah, no take back." This was a once in a lifetime chance, no way Lance was letting this pass.

 

With one hand holding a braid, Lance brought up the other hand to rest under his chin. He wanted to name her something meaningful in Spanish, but his Spanish was mediocre at best, and naming was definitely beyond his level. English names were nice but none sounded right to him nor fitted his already amazing niece. Elvish names? Lance almost laughed out loud. Elvish names carried apparent grace and beauty but most of the time no one could pronounce it correctly. Mom had a pretty Elvish name though, being a direct descendant from a long line of water elves. Her name was pretty for its simplicity. Nerida. Water nymph. Maybe he could play with the letters a little. Direna, Redina, Ranedi, Derina, Rinade, Na-

 

"Derina?" Mari's voice cut off his thought. Lance belatedly realized he had been mumbling out loud all the possible rearrangements. "Denira." Mari enunciated, tilting her head up to look at him before smiling widely. "I love that."

 

"You do?" Lance couldn't help the surprise and maybe pure joy in his question.

 

"Denira," Mari said, testing out the syllables on her tongue. "It's perfect for my beautiful girl." She leant down to press a kiss on a now sleeping, newly-christened Denira. "What does it mean?"

 

"Nothing, I guess." Lance fumbled. "I, uh, was just playing around with Mom's name." Lance stared guiltily at the tips of his shoes. Mom was a painful subject for all of their family, even to Lance, who had never even gotten a chance to see her before she returned to the greenwood.

 

"Oh."

 

The carefree mood in the room dissipated. A sombre, melancholy note sang in the air. Lance returned to braiding hair, having nothing to say to that. Maybe he shouldn't have done that, bringing mom up in such a day. He should apologize-

 

"Mom would have been proud of you, you know. Really really proud of you." Mari turned around to face him with fire of conviction in her eyes, Denira soundly slept on in her hold.

 

"How would you know?" Lance murmured, hot pinpricks of tears stunk his eyes. He wanted to believe that so badly, that he had made her proud, and to have her here physically to hug him and reassure him that. Lance brought a hand close to his face. Blue flame, not water, erupted from his palm, burning bright and flickering. Not water, like the rest of his family. He had always been different. He was-was _wrong._ A miscalculation. An error. "If I hadn't been born, then mom-"

 

He was suddenly yanked down to eye-level with Mari, her hold on his bicep was borderline painful.

 

"Never. Ever. Say that, Lance. Never!" She scream-whispered, eyes twin pools of hyperborean wintry sky, ready to beat him senseless if he continued not listening to her. "Mom passed away happy, knowing that you're safe and sound. I was there Lance! I saw her smile! It was the most beautiful, the happiest smile I ever saw on her face. So please!" Mari leant in close, pressing her forehead to his, Denira firmly between them. "Please stop blaming yourself for Mom's death. It's _not_ your fault. It's _never_  is." Her hand moved from his bicep to grasp his aflame hand. The fire licked playfully on her fingers, like a curious puppy. It never burned. It must _not_ burn.

 

Lance let a tear escape, then the next one followed. Then he cried silently, shoulders quaking. He tried to breathe in some air, but every attempt to open his mouth just brought new waves of tremors and fresh tears.

 

"I-I want t-t-to mee-t mom s-so mu-much, Mari," he blubbered through snort and hiccups.

 

"I know, love." Mari whispered, her hold on the back of his head tightened minutely. "I miss her, too."

 

Throughout it all, Mari held his hand and kept their forehead touching, humming an ancient lullaby. It must have been uncomfortable for her, sitting half out of bed, supporting Denira's weight with one arm while the other stretched to his side to hold his hand. Lance untangled their hand and brought it up to wipe his eyes, standing up straight. Mari kept a penetrating gaze on him. Denira suddenly let out a shrill cry. Mari jumped with surprise, quickly turning her attention back to the bundle in her arms, who was crying with an impressive volume despite her small size.

 

"Did your ugly gnome of an uncle scare you, little Denira?" Mari cooed, patting her side rhythmically and rocking gently.

 

Lance laughed tearily, brushing his sleeves over his eyes to clear away the rest of the tears.

 

"I'm gonna go get some coffee." Lance offered because it was the only thing he could do for Mari now.

 

"Perfect." Mari breathed coherently between garbled mess of baby talk. "Real coffee, Lance! Not the hospital one." She called after him as he closed the door.

 

Lance laughed loud enough to let her know he heard her.

* * *

 

 

 

Lance had hoped he would be lucky enough to not meet an Other.

 

Sadly, the deity had a different idea altogether.

 

He hadn’t even made it to the front lobby when everything and everyone around him stopped moving. Frozen in place and time. A nurse mid run, panic clouded his features. A visitor mid colliding with a doctor, papers strewn out into space. Leaves mid free-diving from tree branches.

 

Then colors started draining from everything until the world was thrown into a film of gray.

 

This meant an Other was nearby and it was going to pass by him.

 

Lance stood still on his spot, not making a single move. If he did, the Other would see him, mistake him for being one of them and start asking him questions; questions he had no answers to, until they grew so distraught, their whimsical misty form collapsed inwards and they became a monster of inky blackness, capable of nothing but consuming everything around him.

 

The first and last time he moved, he received a burning black scar across his left cheek and almost got dragged away; to where he had no idea, but it was definitely not somewhere pleasant.

 

Lance never ventured near any hospitals after that, where he had higher chance of seeing an Other. If he happened to be near an Other passing, he would stay still and wait until color flooded back into the world and everything started moving again.

 

So Lance kept still, heart drumming in his chest. His eyes roamed around in their sockets, looking to see where the soul might be coming fro-

 

There! In the adjacent hallway.

 

An old lady in standard hospital white robe, her wispy form seeming to dissipate in to the wind had the wind been blowing. She had a hand looped around her companion's arm, a black clad man, and was apparently enjoying it, if her grandmotherly smile was anything to go by. Two deaths in a day at the same time in one hospital. Luck must have loathed his guts.

 

Lance stopped breathing altogether when the pair of Others passed him. The man turned his head a little bit to the side, giving Lance a good look at his face. His mouth dropped open on its own volition.

 

It was the elevator companion.

 

The man was no Other. He had colors of the living, there was no misty smoke shrouding him. He was as alive as Lance was. He didn't notice Lance, nor was the old lady, who was pinching his cheek with an air of dissatisfaction because of how thin he was. Lance recognized that look everywhere, having been on the receiving end of one too many from his relatives. The man didn't respond, instead patiently guiding her towards the door, his red boots the only noteworthy color at the moment.

 

The moment they were out, colors started filtering back. Lance didn't wait around for time to unfreeze. He crossed the distance between him and the door in four long strides and was outside in the blink of an eye.

 

The mystery man and the old lady Other was nowhere to be seen.

 

Lance let out a burning ball of air that was searing the walls of his lungs and stamped his foot in frustration. There went his chance of having any answers about his soul seeing thing.

 

Who could that guy possibly be? There was no way him being here in this place a mere coincidence.

 

He heaved a frustrating sigh. It _had_ been a long afternoon, maybe he should take a leaf out of Mari's book and order himself a nice cup of coffee with double, no, quadruple the caffeine.

* * *

 

The coffee shop was situated around the park corner, a crowded, well-known little place with lots of people and noises and colors.

 

A welcoming change to the hospital's bleak scenery.

 

Colors of warm wood and moss green permeated four walls and every piece of furniture. Lance let his senses take over, inhaling the sweetly bitter tang of freshly grind roasted coffee beans, hearing dim chattering of coffee goers mixing in with low humming of machinery. A clerk deftly took his orders and he gave them his butchered up name, a game he had going on to see whether they could ever get his name correctly if he said it incorrectly. She told him to wait for his order to be called so Lance took to leaning his weight against the counter, where some other customers were also waiting.

 

Lance pulled out his pad, like every else did, and went about his business. The pad lit up with a faint whir of machinery, logging into his favored news outlet. Lance scrolled past all the headlines without even glancing at the text. They were all the same nowadays, about the forests and breakthroughs in technical elvish science magic. One stood out to him though. Dragons migration. ‘ _Spectacle of the century,’_ the headline read. Lance clicked it and skimmed through the long-winded text for important phrases. Largest flocks to ever migrate. Mating. Lots of newborn dragon. If brave, try sneaking around their nest to watch newborns hatch.

 

Lance couldn't care less. Dragons and elves didn't particularly get along, even if all elves were human and vice versa and humans were more tolerant albeit a curious with an attitude devils-may-care bunch. Something about those lumbering, tree breaking giants just got his goat. He scrolled downwards for more. Nothing of importance stuck out so he flicked off the screen and snapped the pad around his wrist just as a barista called out his order. An trenta double shot on ice for him and a tame venti iced coffee frappuccino for Mari, which she absolutely hated. But Lance was doing this for Denira, he wouldn't want his niece to get addicted to caffeinated breast milk so early on. He picked up his package, the name on the paper bag read ‘Hans', which was nowhere near his real name but very nice, another to add to his collection of how his name was spelt.

 

He was about to leave when a flash of black coat caught his peripheral vision. It was the black-clad man, sitting alone at a table in the corner, half blended into the shadow and decorating greeneries. Lance forewent any social etiquettes he had and shoved his way through the line of waiting customers, annoyed hisses falling on deaf ears. He had so many questions to ask. Who was the man? Could he see the Others like Lance, too? How could Lance see the Other? What _were_ the Other? If he wanted to get any answers, he needed to get to the table in the corner before the elusive man disappeared again like smoke in the wind.

 

Lance came to a halt in front of the man's table and so did his brain. How should he break the subject? ‘Hi, I saw you touching an Other earlier, what the hell are you?’ would surely got him a punch in the face. And what if Lance was wrong and he had just been seeing things? If he just outright asked that, he openly admitted he could see what no one else could see and managed to get himself even more isolated from the rest of the population than he already was.

 

The man saved Lance from his dilemma.

 

"Can I help you?" He inquired, lowering his odd purple eyes from his study of the ceiling to look at Lance. His voice was as flat as a printing machine, carrying no discernible emotions.

 

Lance’s knee-jerk reaction was to say ‘yes you fucking can’. He violently zipped his mouth shut, eyes darting around to find a topic to start. His eyes unwittingly settled on the cup of coffee in the stranger's hand.

 

"Nice name," Lance blurted out the first thing in his mind as the words 'Niselal' registered in his mind, gesturing with his shoulder towards the cup.

 

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly didn't expect Lance's comment and frowned minutely as he peered at the scrawled letters on his cups as if to make sure.

 

"It's not my name," the man said.

 

"Well clearly it's not." Lance scoffed good-naturedly. "I mean who would name their child that?"

 

The stranger shook his head, an odd smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Lance couldn’t tell whether it was a sad smile or a happy smile or something in between.

 

"No you don't understand. It really is not." Maybe it was the tone or the way the stranger's eyes turned downwards that made Lance wanted to reach out to him, to lend him an ear to whatever troubles he might be having. "If that's all, I'll be heading out." The man took one final swig from his cup before standing up and moving around Lance to get to the door. It all happened so fast, one minute the man was sitting in front of Lance, the next he was at the door, hands on the handle. Lance scrambled for his scattered brain to say something.

 

'Hey, wait! Who are you?' He called out sharply.

 

He never got an answer. The man had already left.

 

He knew he should have chased to him and questioned ‘Niselal’ but he doubted he would come off as sane after that so he refrained. He had already saw this man three times in one day. Perhaps he would meet the man again soon enough.

 

(Mari cursed him to the depth of the deepest ocean when he presented her her inadequately caffeinated coffee while he babbled on nonstop about something or another his hyperactive, caffeine-addled brain could reach for, all the while never stop thinking about a black-clad man with eyes like sparkling gemstone under the starry violet sky that could see Others like him.)

 


End file.
